


Braving the Beasts

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood, Children, Cute, Fear, Gen, Movie Night, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's on his usual duty; looking after little Sam. It's a boring task, but it's important, and at least he can watch a movie while on the job. But should he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Braving the Beasts

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my best friend, because she's my equivalent of Dean. Girl, you're awesome. Thanks for being there for me.

 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

 

”Dean?”  
  
”Shut up, Sammy - I'm watching a movie, can't you see? You should be sleeping.” 

Sam pursed his lips and climbed on the older's bed.  
”What movie is it?” he asked, his voice a little discouraged by the initial response he'd gotten from his brother. 

Dean turned to glare at him, but his expression soon softened.  
”Some stupid movie,” he replied a little regretfully, ”You shouldn't watch it, anyway. It's scary.”  
  
Sam pouted. He leaned onto his brother's shoulder and grabbed his arm. Dean didn't pay attention. He didn't really mind Sam being there – the movie actually was a little scary. It was a thriller; there was a serial killer on the loose, and he was avoiding capture like a ghost. If he had been a ghost, Dean wouldn't have been that scared. Dad had taught him how to fend against ghosts. People were a different thing altogether. Sam was so little, but he was still someone, and even if Dean would never admit it, he felt less afraid when the younger was there with him. 

The smaller brother rubbed his eyes and breathed heavily, gathering his legs on the bed and further curling closer to his older brother. Dean slapped the side of his head warningly faking annoyance.  
”Stop pushing me, Sam.” 

Sam's fingers brushed past the spot Dean's fingers had whipped him and made a disgruntled sound, but he did pull a little back, wrapping his arms around his thin legs instead of Dean's arm. They watched the movie, and the closer they got to the end, the scarier it got. Dean found himself glancing at the windows every now and then but tried to contain his anxiety so as to appear hard to Sam. Nothing scared him. Sam needed him to be brave. He didn't fear anything, least of all movies.

Little by little the younger brother moved closer again, and by the time Dean would have shut the TV off and crawled in his bed with lights on, he was hanging by his arm again. Of course now that he was there, Dean had to pretend he could watch the movie to the end and that it didn't scare him the slightest bit, but in truth he was covered in cold sweat and his heart was beating like mad in his chest. 

Sam buried his face to Dean's arm and made a whining sound as the grand finale reached its peak. Dean was grasping the bed's cover but found himself almost hypnotised by the fight and especially the death of the evil murderer. The hero of the movie rose up, trembling, and wiped sweat off of his forehead before the screen went black and opened to the epilogue.

Dean's breathing halted for a moment when the last few seconds showed something moving in the darkness... the murderer was still alive, somehow, and as evil as ever. The credits rolled, leaving them in the dark. With trembling legs, Dean pulled himself up and crossed the distance to the television. He pushed it off and stood there, shivering, for a brief moment before going back to Sam, who seemed terrified. 

”I don't like the dark, Dean.” 

”Oh yeah?” Dean replied cockily, his voice only wavering a little, ”It's because you're such a scaredycat. A _wuss_.”

Sam pouted again.  
”No I'm not,” he argued, his high child's voice even higher than usual. 

”Really? Well, then you can go and get dad's flashlight all by yourself, since you're not scared.”  
  
Sam hesitated. His round eyes escaped to the other side of the motel room and to the black shape of the flashlight standing face down next to the door. His skin seemed to lose colour even in the dark. Dean shivered again.  
Truth was, he didn't want to go grab it. When Sam shook his head however, he knew he had to.  
”As I said,” he muttered, ”You're a coward. John would be disappointed.” 

Dad wasn't afraid of the dark.  
Dad would have been disappointed in them both.  
Movies weren't real.  
Dad would have just walked across the room like it was nothing, because it was nothing.  
Dad wasn't afraid of anything. 

Dean's feet were cold and numb when he crossed the room. His eyes kept straying from his goal, flickering to the dark corners of the room and especially the motel room's door – was it a little open? No, it wasn't. But it _could_ open. Normal children could think there were no such things as murderers or monsters. Dean knew better. And monsters didn't even need to use the door...  
His heart was nearly bursting when he wrapped his ice cold fingers around the flashlight's handle and pushed it on. The warm yellow light hit the ceiling almost immediately, but it didn't make Dean feel any better. He considered putting the lights on but he was afraid that if he did, the light would reveal what had been lurking in the darkness all along.  
 _'You're such a child, Dean. You need to be brave. You can't be scared. Being scared is what gets you killed. You need to be a man for your brother. Sam needs you. Dad left you here to look after Sammy, you're letting them both down by acting like a little kid.'_

He aimed the light in front of himself and swallowed thickly. The fear wasn't going anywhere but at least he felt determined now. He drew a long breath and walked back to Sam, each step a milestone for his confidence as the thing he wanted to do most was to sprint and hide.  
”Sammy,” he said when he stopped in front of the younger, who seemed to relax the very moment he got close to him again, ”Let's play a game.” 

Sam tilted his head and sucked at his lower lip. Dean placed the flashlight under his chin, illuminating his face in a terrifying manner, and enjoyed the little he saw from through the veil of light – the younger brother was so easy to scare, as he was clearly intimidated by the strong shadows disfiguring the older's features.

”Or rather, let's practice.” 

”Practice what?” Sam asked, reaching his tiny hand to push the torch away from under the older's jaw. 

”Practice escaping murderers, of course,” Dean huffed like it was obvious, ”Come on.”  
He fell on his knees on the bed and waited for Sam to climb down and kneel next to him. Then he lifted the bed's cover and pointed in the dark under it.  
”Crawl there. I'll come right after you. Then we hide there, okay? Because the murderer is coming. Or it could be... hmm... a werewolf. Yeah, it's a werewolf – and it's hunting us, okay? I'll say when it's gone then.” 

A quick, frightened smile flashed across Sam's face and he nodded, serious again, before doing as Dean had told him to. Dean bit his lower lip and looked at the door, gasping dramatically.  
”It's coming, it's coming! Quick now, Sam, or we're both dead. It'll rip our hearts out if you don't hurry. Hurry up!”  
  
”I'm trying!” Sam whined and pulled his feet under the bed.  
  
Dean laid on his stomach and crawled after him as he was still turning around. They crawled and turned until they both faced the room, seeing only the small area that was visible from under the blanket on top of the bed. Dean laid the flashlight on its end so that it illuminated the bed's belly above them, creating a sort of a lit hideout for them.  
Sam was still pale, but his cheeks were covered by a strong blush, speaking of determination and effort. He was holding himself together. So was Dean.

”Is the werewolf gone?” Sam asked almost without voice, forming most of the words with his small, pink lips. 

Dean shook his head.  
He opened his mouth to answer when he heard a sound from the other side of the door. His eyes widened and hastily, he turned off the flashlight, holding a finger across his lips to make sure Sam didn't say anything.  
Something bumped against the door. The only sound besides that was the two of them holding breath and then releasing it, and the nearly painful beating of Dean's heart echoing from his eardrums.  
He felt Sam's fingers bending around the sleeve of his pyjama shirt. For a moment, nothing else could be heard but them – then there was a heavy bump against the door again, and something scraping around the lock.

Sam made a tiny sound when the door started opening. Dean's eyes were still wide open and he was holding his breath, but as his ears registered Sam's whimper, he slammed a hand on his brother's mouth and laid his own face against the floor to know what was coming inside.  
He saw two thick feet – too thick to be human – before the door closed behind the intruder. The brothers looked at each other, Sam's eyes full of tears of fear, when the lights went on in the room.  
Why did it put on the lights?  
If they'd been sleeping, it would have woken them... 

”Boys?”  
Dean choked.  
”Dean? Sam?”

Sam shrieked, pulling Dean's hand off of his mouth simultaneously. He crawled out from under the bed and quicker than Dean could react, his toes had disappeared from sight as the blanket fell over the view again. Dean was following him, but he hit his forehead on the bed's frame before managing to crawl out after. When he did get his face out from under the blanket, he saw Sam hugging their father between the two large bags he'd mistaken for feet.  
John held the small boy against himself, but his eyes were on Dean. He looked amused and a little baffled, and Dean felt increasingly ashamed the more of his body he got out from their hideout.  
  
”We thought you were a monster,” Sam said quietly.

”I see,” John replied and held out a hand for Dean.  
”Well, I don't think hiding under the bed would have done you two much good, would it now, Dean?”

Dean took the hand and sighed.  
”No, sir,” he replied depressedly, ”We'd be dead now if it hadn't been you.”  
  
”Right you are, son. Come here.”  
John pulled him close and hugged them both tight.  
”You're still my two all-time favourite dead little boys. Well then - who wants a burger?”


End file.
